A Demon's Perspective
by NybCR
Summary: Formerly Trip. It's the Swordcraft Story, but not quite as you remember it... as narrated by a foulmouthed Demon King. Pairing is Pratty x Rasho... but the romance won't come until later on.
1. Going Down

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Summon Night: Swordcraft Story or any of the characters within it. The characters that are mine, however, belong to me. So there. Also, the song lyrics at the beginning do not belong to me; they are from the song "Sugar We're Going Down" by Fall-Out Boy. It's just there for flavor. So... please don't sue me.

**NybCR:** New story! Wait, what do you mean I should finish the others first? Bah! Nonsense!

Okay, this one is a modified version of Summon Night: Swordcraft Story. The reason I wrote it is, essentially, back story for another story... because I will tell you now it is very different from the story you're familiar with, so don't be too surprised if you come across something and you're all like, _Hey, THAT wasn't in the game!_ because I warned you. I promise it'll be interesting, though!

Oh, and just in case you're confused... **the title of this story has changed!** It used to be called "Trip", but I changed it on the grounds that that title didn't have anything to do with the story. At all. Seriously.

Now that that's covered, on with the story!

* * *

**Chapter One**  
Going Down

"_Am I more than you bargained for yet?"_

_- _

Rasho opened his eyes. He was in a different place than he had been a moment ago. In the background was the sound of a hammer pounding metal. He heard the sound of ocean waves lapping against a wall of stone and metal, though the sound was too far away to have been picked up by human ears. The distinct scent of rust, salt, and brimstone was in the air—and something else; something metallic and familiar that he hadn't come across for over three years.

"...Is this Wystern?" he said aloud, putting a name to the unmistakable scent. "Indeed, it is. I recognize its smell."

"It's you..." said a voice from behind him.

Rasho turned around, nonchalant as ever. Three people stood there—a child, a Summoner (judging by his clothes), and Bron—the latter of whom he almost didn't recognize at first, he'd changed so much since Rasho last saw him. Bron, once a tan, broad-shouldered lady's man in his mid-thirties, was now a middle-aged, bearded man with a hefty beer gut. He raised an eyebrow at that. Seems that the Master of the Silver Guild let himself go, teaching children how to forge weapons.

"If you are here," Rasho said as he finished scrutinizing Bron, "that means only one thing... I have been summoned here by a Craftknight, again..." He cast a glance around the room he'd been summoned into. It was unspectacular, decorated only with a desk, a couple of chairs, and a weapons rack... not much for such a big room. It was probably meant as a place for fighting lessons. After all, the Silver Guild was not a place to train simple blacksmiths, but Craftknights—the most honored of all warriors, whose weapons would be an honor for anyone to wield.

Of course, the fact that there was a desk and chair in what was clearly meant to be a sparring room spoke of an owner too cheap to get a separate room as an office... Oh look, there he was.

Bron stepped forward, a scowl on his face. "Well, whaddya know. Didn't think I'd be seein' _you_ again."

Rasho smirked. "Disappointed?"

Bron laughed shortly. "I'm just feelin' sorry for the poor kid, here," he replied, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the girl still standing by the Summoner. Rasho looked her over.

The child was, presumably, the Craftknight he was to be partnered with. He stifled a groan. The kid _really_ didn't look like much. She was scrawny in every sense of the word—perhaps with some potential for speed, but not much else. To her credit, she didn't look soft: at least her arms looked like they had _some_ muscle to them, and since her hands were so dirty, it meant she wasn't too prim to do some hard labor. Judging by the lack of baby fat, she was probably in her mid-teens, probably fourteen. Her hair was silver and tied into two stubby little ponytails. It was also completely drenched—odd, since the rest of her seemed dry enough, but he decided not to comment on it. Her eyes were a clear blue-gray—the color of the ocean reflecting an overcast sky. There was something vaguely familiar about those eyes.

But the point now was that she hadn't _taken_ those eyes off of him since he appeared, and it was really starting to grate on his nerves.

"Little girlie," he growled. She snapped to attention, and he continued. "Wipe that foolish expression off your face. If your only desire is to stand and stare at me, then return me to my world."

The girl blinked. "Pardon?"

Rasho sighed, exasperated. "Surely you aren't so ignorant as to be unaware of what I'm talking about?"

"We're not sendin' ya back to yer world," Bron cut in, his expression one of annoyance. "And since when did ya come to think so highly of yerself?"

"I see you've changed as well," Rasho replied, amused. "You must weigh at least fifty pounds more than when last I saw you..."

"Shut yer mouth, Beast! I oughta—"

The girl chuckled.

Bron turned on her. "Somethin' funny?"

The girl grinned. "Well," she said, "It's just—I hadn't noticed how much weight you've gained, Master…"

"What?!"

Rasho laughed aloud. "Well! It seems this girl's got a well-developed sense of humor. She does seem rather young to be a Craftknight, though."

The girl crossed her arms and looked up at him defiantly. "What's that supposed to mean? You don't think I can be a proper Craftknight?"

"This is Pratty, the daughter of Shintetsu," Bron interjected, never one to be left out. "And she's as cheeky as her father ever was, alas."

Rasho shot Bron a glance. "Shintetsu's daughter?" He looked back at the girl, giving her a closer look. It was true; the eyes that had seemed so familiar _were_ just like Shintetsu's. He appraised the girl once again. Yes, now that he thought of it, the girl's silver hair was also the same as that of his former Master's... as was the determination in the set of her jaw. Rasho grinned. "Is that right?"

Pratty backed away from him slightly, looking at him with suspicion. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He ignored her question, instead voicing his thoughts. "You were an infant the last time I laid eyes on you, but now you are a beautiful young lady." Rasho crossed his arms, a confident grin on his face. "I'm Rasho, and going to be your partner. I'll make you the best Craftknight in the world!"

Pratty smirked. "Well, you're certainly not lacking for confidence..."

"All right!" Bron exclaimed. "It's about time I took ya to yer workshop. Follow me to the second floor." He glanced at the Summoner as he walked out of the room. "Just wait here a sec, Penndel, I'll be right back." The Summoner nodded and Bron led Rasho and Pratty out of the room and up the staircase.

As they went up the steps, Rasho watched the girl out of the corner of his eye. All that he really knew about Shintetsu's daughter was what Shintetsu told him—when he would mope and say that his daughter was such a tomboy, or when he would laugh and say that she would someday be the greatest Craftknight ever, even greater than him. Rasho wasn't so sure of that. Even with _him_ as her partner, this scrawny little kid still had a long way to go.

"Well, here we are," Bron said as they reached the top of the stairs. He stood beside the doorway of a room two yards in front of the staircase. "Only the tournament entrants have workshops on the second and third floors." Rasho cast a glance around the room. There were eight doors on this floor—all of them, presumably, leading into identical workshops—and another staircase on the other side of the room leading up to a third floor. Pratty didn't notice the lay-out. She simply raced into the room Bron indicated. Once inside, she looked around the workshop, grinning from ear to ear.

Rasho followed her inside. The workshop was rather bare, with a large forge taking up a good third of the room. Furniture consisted of two cots, a desk with a single chair, a standing screen (presumably to change clothes behind, since the workshop didn't have a door), a pair of empty shelves on one wall and two shelves brimming with forging equipment on the opposite wall. All in all, a modest set-up, but appropriate for an apprentice. He didn't think much of it, but Pratty's eyes shined with excitement.

Bron entered the room soon after. "Well, here it is," he said, "yer very own workshop. Remember you'll be livin' here for the duration of the tournament, so go ahead an' make it as cozy as ya please."

"Yeah, I know," Pratty replied off-handedly. "My mom told me about that already."

"Huh. She did? Well then—"

"In fact, she even gave me a direct quote from _you_, Master," she went on, trying (and failing) to hide the mischievous grin lurking beneath her lips. "Of course, it would be kind of inappropriate to quote you now, seeing as how half of it was you hitting on my mom..."

Bron growled and grabbed her ear between his thumb and knuckle in the manner of a parent with his child; Pratty yelped in protest. "Oi, don't ya sass me, girl! Just because yer—" He stopped abruptly when he caught the grimace on Pratty's face. He released her ear and leaned forward to inspect it more closely. Curious, Rasho floated closer to see what was going on, but Bron's bulk was in the way of his view.

"This happen when ya fell earlier?" Bron asked gruffly.

"…Yeah," Pratty mumbled.

Rasho came a little closer and peeked over Bron's shoulder (for which he had to hover off the ground a little higher than normal, since Bron was taller than him). She had a nasty-looking cut along the back of her ear.

Bron sighed wearily. "Ya gonna tell me what happened?"

"Well... I tripped..."

"Don't gimme that, Pratty. Ya don't get a cut on yer ear like that fallin' forward. Now what happened?"

Pratty sighed. "Chaves pushed me off the second level harbor. But that's it, it's no big deal."

Bron stood up straight (nearly ramming into Rasho) and rubbed his temple. "O' course he did. But what were ya doin' up there, anyway? I toldja ta come straight here after the ceremony."

"I know, but Derrick was waiting for me right outside the Ceremony Hall, and he wanted to hear about what was going on. And it's not like I could just tell him to beat it. You know how he gets when he wants something…"

Bron sighed. "Well, that's true. Kid's got a bigger pair o' puppy-dog-eyes than most puppies…"

"Who's Derrick?" Rasho interrupted.

Bron and Pratty turned and looked at him, startled, as though they had forgotten he was there. Pratty recovered first. "My little brother," she said.

That gave Rasho a moment of pause, but then he recalled that Shintetsu had, indeed, mentioned that his wife Amariss had given birth to a second child. Oh, yes, he remembered now... Shintetsu sighing like a school girl and saying that only his daughter wanted to become a Craftknight like her daddy, but his son wanted to become a Summoner, and he would have to go to Zalum to study at the Cerulean Society and then he'd _miss him so much_ and... God, Rasho'd remember that mope-fest for a long time.

When Rasho pulled himself out of his thoughts, he found Bron and Pratty looking at him strangely. Apparently something of his thoughts had shown on his face. He crossed his arms and tried to recover his composure. "So, who's Chaves?"

Pratty tilted her head a bit—apparently not so young that she didn't notice a deliberate subject change when she heard one—but had the good grace to answer his question anyway. "Just this bully who's been messing with me for years. Usually he just throws a couple of insults my way every now and then, but he's gotten a lot more up in my face lately because of the tournament."

Rasho frowned. A tournament, eh? He'd have to be sure to ask about that later. "I take it this 'Chaves' is competing in the tournament, as well?"

"Yeah, but he's no real problem," Pratty answered, shrugging. "He may be big, but he's slow. Not to mention he doesn't even have the guts to face me head-on."

"So he pushed you off the harbor?"

Pratty shrugged. "Could've been worse," she said. "Almost bashed my head against one of the support beams. It's pretty lucky I got away with only a nicked ear and a scraped shoulder."

"Your _shoulder's_ hurt _too_?!" Bron roared.

"Uh…"

Bron sighed again and covered his eyes with his hand. He took a deep breath. "Look," he said after a short pause. "I got to get back to Penndel. But _you_ oughta go downstairs and get that 'nicked ear' o' yers bandaged up before it gets infected."

"Yes, sir."

"All right. Now, yer free for the rest o' the day, but I expect ya to be in the main forgin' room by eleven tomorrow mornin' with all the other apprentices. Ya got that?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good." With that, he strode out of the room, the sound of his footsteps tromping down the stairs following after him.

After a pause, Rasho turned to Pratty. "Do you always get into this much trouble?"

Pratty looked up at him and grinned. "Usually more, actually. Why? Don't tell me it's too exciting for you."

Rasho snorted. "Nothing's too much trouble for me."

"Good then. Now…" She began walking toward the doorway and looked at Rasho over her shoulder. "I've gotta go meet someone. Wanna come with me?"

Rasho growled. "You know, Bron may be an idiot most of the time, but you _should_ get that cut wrapped up before going anywhere."

"I will, I will… but _after_ that, I mean. Do you wanna come with me?"

Rasho snorted. "May as well," he replied, looking around the bare workshop. "It's not like there's anything else to do around here."

Pratty smiled brightly. "Great! Let's go, then." She set off at a brisk pace out of the room, Rasho following leisurely after her.

"You can wait here if you want," she said as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "I'm gonna go ahead and find the first aid kit."

"As if," Rasho retorted as he floated down the last step and crossed his arms. "No self-respecting demon stands around waiting for some teenage girl. I'm coming with you."

"Suit yourself," she said, heading through a door to their right. She led him past several forges and into another room supplied with cupboards, sinks, shelves, a table, and a stove—a kitchen.

"Why is the first aid kit in the kitchen?" Rasho said, leaning against the stove.

"Well, what better place to have the first aid?" she asked, walking over to one of the shelves and taking down a box labeled "first aid" in big, red letters. She set the first aid kit on the counter by the sink and opened it. "After all," she continued, "it's got all those sharp, pointy objects, the floor gets slippery if the pipes under the sink start leaking—not to mention all the burns you can get from using a stove…" she replied, pulling out a two-inch-tall jar and a small roll of linen.

"All right! I get the idea." Rasho sighed and glanced around the kitchen. It was clean, with the smell of food and cooking oil in the warm air. He looked back at Pratty, who had turned on the faucet and started splashing water onto her ear. He watched for a moment before deciding to say something.

"You're doing it wrong," he said flatly, still standing by the stove. "If you don't clean it properly—and with _alcohol_—it's going to get inflected."

"Don't need alcohol," she said, her brow creased into a frown. She did, however, start rubbing the dirt out of the wound instead of simply getting it wet. She nodded to the small jar sitting by the sink. "That stuff's just as good for preventing infection. Plus it doesn't burn." She turned off the faucet and reached for the jar.

"Tch." Rasho looked away and placed his hands behind his head, elbows raised—his "bored" pose. "A little burn is good for you every now and then. Don't be such a girl."

She gave him a side-long look. "I _am_ a girl, thanks for noticing," she stated dryly.

"Heh. Well, it's _that_ kind of thinking that'll stop you from becoming a decent Craftknight." He pushed off from the stove and crossed his arms. He looked at Pratty, who was spreading the wet, clay-like substance over the cut on her ear. "You want to be a Craftknight, you have to think like one above all else."

"Hmm." Pratty rinsed the clay off her hands, still not looking at him. She picked up the linen and wrapped it around her ear with a swiftness suggesting that she was used to bandaging her own wounds. Rasho raised an eyebrow at that. Clearly, Shintetsu had not been exaggerating when he said that she was a tomboy... just as well. No way would Rasho want to be partnered with some prissy little girl too prim to get her hands dirty.

As soon as Pratty had the first aid kit put away, she turned to Rasho, a hint of mischief in her blue-gray eyes. For a split second, he saw Shintetsu's eyes looking back at him. But then she smiled—the smile of her mother, Amariss—and the illusion was broken. "Ready?" she asked.

Slowly, a responding smirk crept onto Rasho's face. He had known both Shintetsu and Amariss, the former of whom was a born trouble-maker and the latter of whom could intimidate the fiercest of men. God knew their eldest child would be something to hang around.

* * *

**NybCR: **Well, there's the first chapter! Hope you enjoyed it. Oh yeah... that's right... Pratty gets picked on by Chaves! For those who want to know, that is NOT as a result of a change in her character, it's a result of a change in her circumstances as a kid... i.e., having friends and also enemies. Cookie to anyone who can guess how Pratty got on Chaves's bad side in the first place!... although I'm not sure there are enough hints yet... oh well. 

**Edit:** Thanks to Magicookie for telling me the name of the capital! Yays for accuracy!


	2. The City of Swords

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Summon Night: Swordcraft Story or any of its pretty little characters. The characters that are mine, however, belong to me. So there. Also—don't own the song lyrics at the beginning. They are from the song "Dirty Little Secret" by the All-American Rejects.

**NybCR:** Hello again! This is the second chapter for my very special story. Yayfulness! And guess who Pratty's friend is...? Well, okay, it's a little late for that guessing game since the answer is in this chapter, but oh well!

To Jenvaati: Dude, you deserve a cookie just for coming up with such an awesome explanation. (gives cookie) And thank you very much for your review! It made me feel all special inside.

And, just in case anyone's confused... **the title of this story has changed!** It used to be called "Trip", but I changed it on the grounds that that title didn't have anything to do with the story. At all. Seriously.

* * *

**Chapter Two**  
The City of Swords

"_When we live such fragile eyes, it's the best way we survive.__"_

_- _

Pratty led Rasho down the broad steel walkway to a great metal courtyard in the middle of Wystern. It was more crowded than Rasho remembered, although to be fair, he didn't explore the city that often as Shintetsu's Guardian Best.

The people, young and old, bustled past, talking and laughing with friends and bartering with merchants, who displayed their wares on make-shift stands and called out to passers-by to come look at their selection. Children ran past without a care in the world, shrieking and playing. Occasionally someone would cast curious looks towards the flame-haired demon walking side-by-side with the silver-haired apprentice. Pratty didn't seem to notice the attention they attracted, but Rasho basked in it. She ignored his preening, instead filling him in on the tournament.

"The tournament going on now is to determine the new Craftlord—someone to take the place of my dad," she said. "There are sixty-four people in the tournament; thirty from the Gold Guild, sixteen from the Silver Guild, and eighteen who don't belong to either since they're from out-of-town."

"So, what—the winner of the tournament is going to become the next Craftlord of Iron?" Rasho said. "Is that how it's going to go?"

"Yeah," she said. "There's also the Labyrinth. You remember that?"

"Labyrinth? The one underneath the Central Tower?"

"That's right. For the duration of the tournament, it's going to be open to all the competitors, so that we can train against the Stray Summons down there and gather materials for our weapons. We're only allowed to fight with weapons that _we've_ forged, after all."

"Of course," Rasho scoffed. "You'd be a disgrace as a Craftlord otherwise."

Pratty shrugged. "I suppose so. Anyway, I think that's about all there is to know about the tournament so far."

"Huh." Rasho crossed his arms. "There was a tournament, here, once before. What was it, three years ago? It was for the title of Craftlord of Sapphire."

Pratty looked thoughtful. "I think I remember that," she said. "A lot of people were coming to Wystern to see it. Everyone was really excited about it."

_So excited that they forgot about the earthquakes, I'll bet_, Rasho thought, his mouth thinning into a hard line. _Those Craftlords just don't know when to quit, do they? Doing the same thing over and over, like it'll change anything..._

Pratty looked up at him. "Is everything all right, Rasho?"

"It's nothing."

She looked like she might press for a real answer, but then stopped as she realized where they were. "Oh—we're here."

"Here" was a large, ornate stone fountain smack-dab in the center of the courtyard—a small oasis of organic beauty in a place of uniform geometry. The water that cascaded from the fish-shaped spouts was clear: certainly not ocean water. Amidst the fish were three stone mermaids, long hair covering their bare breasts and each facing a different direction. The mermaid facing Rasho and Pratty had a kind expression on her sculpted face, her eyes gentle in their marble stillness. One hand was set serenely on her fish-tail lap, while the other lay on the flat, smooth rock next to her, as though inviting someone to sit down. Even the battle-hardened demon had to admit it was a work of art.

Pratty, however, simply glanced around the fountain's bulk, oblivious to its grandeur. "Well," she said, "it looks like my friend isn't here yet. Do you mind waiting or—"

"You're not leaving _already_, are you, Pratty?"

Pratty turned around, a smile spreading across her face. "Kenon!" she exclaimed, walking over to a black-haired boy wearing a decorative headband. A small, spherical mechanoid hovered beside him, its orange optics looking at its surroundings, seemingly excited to be in the City of Swords. Pratty stared at it for a second before holding out her hand. "You must be Kenon's Guardian Beast. Pleased to meet you!"

The tiny robot beeped delightedly and gave her a thumbs-up. Pratty laughed and patted its head.

The boy—Kenon—grinned. "Cool, huh? And you'll probably be seeing a lot of him, too, for the next week. A lot of apprentices are going to have their Guardian Beasts stay with them for the duration of the tournament since it'd be so much trouble going back and forth from our world to theirs so often, between forging weapons and fighting in the labyrinth and then the matches…."

"So was he summoned here just now?" Pratty asked. "What's his name?"

_Zantek_, the robot beeped happily.

"Zantek," Kenon answered. "At least, that's what the Summoner told me. Dunno how _he_ knew that, though, since all Zantak seems to be able to do is beep. Sometimes I think I can understand him a little, but it's mostly guesswork."

Rasho raised an eyebrow at that. Funny; _he_ could understand that beeping little toy perfectly. Not that it really mattered.

Zantek turned to Kenon and beeped, _Well, partner, it's not like I have any other interface._

"Ah—" Kenon hesitated, at a loss since he had no idea what the robot was saying, but he took a shot, anyway. "Yeah—um. This is Pratty, my friend."

Zantek beeped again (an exasperated _You are only human, I suppose, so it can't be helped_) and floated off. Kenon sighed and turned back to Pratty. "Well, even if I can't understand him, he's still a pretty cool Guardian Beast, right?"

Pratty smiled. "Sure! Mechanoids are way cool."

Rasho pouted a little at that. So what was he, chopped liver? Not that he really _cared_. He was a demon, after all.

"Yeah, that's true," he replied. That was when his eye finally caught Rasho. He nudged Pratty and pointed. "So, Pratty, is that—"

"Oh, I almost forgot!" She tugged Kenon forward, closer to where Rasho stood in front of the fountain. "Rasho, this is my friend Kenon. Kenon, this is Rasho—my Guardian Beast."

Rasho scrutinized him, a slight frown on his face. This kid really ticked him off, probably because of the way his mouth only ever went half-way: half-smiling and half-smirking. As far as Rasho was concerned, if you wanted to say something, then you said it, and if you felt something one way, you ought to feel it all the way! And frankly, this kid's cocky attitude as he tucked his hair behind his headband reminded him of another teenage boy—a four-eyed, pony-tailed smartass who constantly got on his nerves. Cocky little rug rat. Kenon, she said? More like Headband Boy.

Kenon, on the other hand, looked back, unperturbed by the glaring demon, and half-smiled. "A pleasure."

Little punk. He'd show _him_.

Rasho glanced side-long at his young Master. "You honestly make friends with such weaklings? What on earth is so appealing? All you need is a glance at that puny excuse of a Guardian Beast to see that—ow!"

Rasho looked down, putting his hand over his recently-punched arm. Judging by how fiercely Pratty was glaring at him, he should have immediately apologized to her for bad-mouthing her friend, but all he could really think of at that moment is that she had one hell of a punch for such a scrawny little kid.

"Rasho, that's my _friend_ you're talking to," she stated firmly. "If you've got a problem with him, you've got a problem with me."

Rasho toyed with the idea of saying that, yeah, they were _both_ pretty scrawny and what did she intend to do about it? But considering that even though she was a girl, she was still _Shintetsu's_ daughter, and he really shouldn't aggravate her anymore than he already had. And he owed it to Shintetsu to, at the very least, not make enemies with his eldest child. Of course, that didn't mean he was going to apologize.

Tch. _Hell_ no.

He gave Kenon another once-over and looked away, arms crossed. "Whatever."

Pratty sighed and turned back to her friend. "Sorry about that, Kenon. Anyway, how's it going? Psyched about the tournament?"

Rasho scowled at the easy dismissal, but stood by and listened to the conversation. Who knew? Maybe they'd actually say something interesting. Not likely, though, since they _were _only rug rats.

"Heh—so-so," Headband Boy said, sitting down on the lip of the fountain. "Looking around during the Opening Ceremony, seems like a lot of people in both of the Guilds are in the tournament—plus some who've come here from other cities."

Pratty sat down next to him. "Is Nereis in the tournament, too? I didn't see her at the Opening Ceremony."

"Me neither—but I saw her getting briefed along with the rest of us back at the Gold Guild." He sighed and rested his chin on his hands. "I hope I don't have to fight her."

She chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "Try to look at it this way: sixty-four people in the tournament, and you and Nereis are only two of them. Chances are against you getting matched up in the first round, at least."

"Yeah, and now that you've said it, there's no way I'm_ not_ going to be matched up with her." Still, he smiled.

Zantek, apparently back from his aimless wanderings, floated over to Rasho and hovered by his shoulder. Rasho growled and tried to shoo it away, but after it flew off and came back for the second time, he gave up and resumed listening to the kids' conversation.

"Yeah," Pratty was saying, touching her bandaged ear. "Pushed me off the harbor."

"Nice. Gonna do anything about it?"

"Heh, sure—pray I'm matched against him in the tournament so I can teach him a lesson. Not like there's anything else I can do." Pratty stood up and started walking along the stone lip of the fountain. Headband Boy followed suit.

"Do you really think beating Chaves in the tournament will get him off your back?" he asked as they walked.

"Sure. I mean, think about it—"

Rasho didn't catch the rest of what was said; their voices were drowned out by the cascade of water as they disappeared around the fountain.

The thing by his shoulder beeped.

He scowled. "What could you _possibly_ want?"

_Those two seem to be good friends_, it said.

"Maybe. So what?"

_I wonder how long they've known each other. _

"Who cares?"

_Well, we _are_ their Guardian Beasts now. We should make an effort to get to know them. _

"Heh." Rasho crossed his arms. "That's an interesting way of thinking. Most Beasts summoned here would rather remain as unattached to their Masters as possible. Humans have short lives, after all."

_Mabye so, but I'd rather know who I'm partners with. You know, their goals and intentions. It's better to know what you're helping them achieve. We're a part of whatever they do; I feel better knowing that I helped do something good. _

"Whatever. As far as I'm concerned, all I need to know about my Master is that she's the daughter of Shintetsu—my former Master. The work we started here three years ago isn't finished yet, and I'm here now to see it through to the end."

Zantek gave Rasho a curious look, but Pratty and Kenon came back into sight from around the fountain. Both lapsed into silence as they watched their young Masters.

"Anyway, what's going on with you?" Pratty said. "I heard that your dad's back from his trip to Vance."

"… Yeah." Kenon dropped to the ground and sat down heavily on the lip of the fountain.

Pratty stopped in her tracks and looked at him. "Is he still tweaked?"

He stared at the ground, his expression solemn. Finally, he sighed and said, "I don't know, Pratty. Ever since I joined the Gold Guild, he's been acting so weird. At first, it wasn't so bad; he tried to be encouraging, and I think he was relieved that I was still friends with you, even though the Silver Guild is rivals with the Gold Guild."

"Yeah, I remember that. The first time I saw him after we both joined the guilds, he seemed unusually happy to see me. Not that your dad's not a nice guy—he just usually leaves us to our own, ya know?"

"Yeah. But even though we were in different guilds, he still kept saying stuff like, 'Well, you can always go to the Silver Guild if you ever get tired of the Gold Guild.'"

"Talk about awkward," she said, sitting down next to him.

"Tell me about it. I always had to kind of shrug and look away when he said that. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but… well, I didn't want to lie by saying I _would_ go to the Silver Guild someday."

"That's tough. And now that we're older, our training's more intense…."

"Which means we don't really have the option of transferring between guilds anymore. At least, not until we're finished training altogether. The training regiment is just too different."

"So does your dad still say that stuff, about you transfering?"

"No. Now, it's like…." Kenon searched for the words. "Like he doesn't want to be around me anymore. I know he wanted me to join the Silver Guild like him, but I didn't think he'd take it so _hard_. It's like, by joining the Gold Guild, I've betrayed him as a son."

Pratty let out a sigh and turned to her friend. "You know," she began gently, "you're going to have to talk to your dad eventually. A proper talk, I mean—with you actually talking and him actually listening."

"That would be way too awkward."

"Oh, come on! Don't be so emotionally constipated. Just because you're a guy, doesn't mean you can't talk out your problems."

"I think that's exactly what it means."

Pratty rolled her eyes and looked at Rasho, still standing several feet away. "Rasho, would you tell Kenon that guys can talk out their problems just as well as girls?"

Rasho crossed his arms. "Don't be ridiculous. Girls talk. Guys fight."

Pratty groaned. "You guys are hopeless."

"Speaking of fighting," Kenon said, shaking off the gloom and looking at Pratty with a glint in his eye. "I ran into Chaves earlier. He said for you to meet him behind the Gold Guild in ten minutes. Of course, that was about fifteen minutes ago—but still. Are you going to accept?"

"Weren't you listening to Rasho? _Guys_ fight. Girls _talk_. Besides, if Chaves wants to challenge me, he can ask me himself."

"He will. Maybe not today, but sooner or later."

"Hmm." Pratty rest her chin on her hand. "I don't see why we should bother with a fist fight at all, especially if we're matched together in the tournament."

"He probably wanted to make a bet. Like, you would drop out of the tournament if he won."

She snorted. "Man, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of."

"Well, Chaves was never the brightest candle in the cupboard."

"Come on, don't be mean," she said, holding back a grin. "I'm sure Chaves has some redeeming qualities. We've just never seen any of them 'cause he hates us."

"And we're such likable people, too."

Pratty laughed at that and said something in response, but Rasho's attention drifted away from the conversation and turned towards the people and the buildings surrounding them.

Things had changed so much since he had last been to Wystern, and yet so much was the same. There were more buildings and the shops had different signs and names, but they were all still of the same style—stone and metalwork, stocky and sturdy. It was the same time-tested architecture that was able to withstand earthquakes and floods and whatever else until Wystern sank another level and they were drowned out by the ocean.

That was one of the unique things about Wystern: not only was it a city largely populated by Craftknights, but it was built in the middle of the ocean, and every year it sank a little more. According to the history books, Wystern had once been an island, and when it began disappearing beneath the ocean, the people built a "second story" for the city. Today, Wystern consisted of three levels surrounding the Central Tower, the building that reached down to the original island. Most of the inhabitants of Wystern currently lived on the first level of Wystern, while the second grew every day and construction continued on the third level. The City of Swords was constantly under construction, and would be until it stopped sinking—if it ever stopped sinking. Even so, Wystern was very much a reflection of its people: indomitable despite all odds.

The number of people, too, seemed to have doubled or even tripled, although that may have been due to the tournament and the people (both Craftknights and tourists) that such a monumental event attracted rather than any kind of rabbit-like multiplication on the people's part.

Despite the differences, the smells were still the same: the scent of ocean waves—salt and seaweed and brimstone—mingled inextricably with the intoxicating smells of a city marketplace, of fish, warm bread and hickory smoke. It was a combination unique to the City of Swords, and one that hadn't changed since Rasho had last been here. But at the same time, coming back to Wystern reminded him of his former Master, the now-deceased Shintetsu. It was almost as if Rasho was returning to finish the work that they had left behind….

"Hey, Rasho?"

Rasho looked down at Pratty, who had approached him while his thoughts drifted. "Eh? What is it?"

"It's getting late, so we're going somewhere for dinner. You coming?"

Rasho rolled his eyes. "I'm your Guardian Beast, aren't I? It's not like I'm gonna leave a little kid like you alone."

Pratty pouted. "Hey, I'm fourteen, you know. I'll be grown up in a couple years."

"Right." Rasho poked a finger at her forehead. "Not with _that_ pouty face. As long as you act like a kid, you're a kid. Got it?"

Pratty smiled and waved his hand away. "Whatever." She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward where Headband Boy and Zantek (whose presence by his Master confused him—since when had the floating toy left his side?) waited for them. "Let's go, already!"

* * *

**NybCR:** Thank you all for reading my second chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. Or found it mildly amusing, at least. 

Anyway... yes, yes, I know that Kenon's Guardian Beast is not actually Zantek... but he's such a spiffy little robot, I couldn't leave him out of my story! Besides, I think he suits Kenon rather well, don't you? Oh, and sorry if Kenon's a bit OOC... I don't believe it matters too much anyway since this whole story is "a bit OOC", but I hope it didn't bother anyone too much. And don't worry, Kutty and Sugar will appear, too... although obviously the only one who was ever Shintetsu's Guardian Beast is Rasho.

If you have any questions, comments, criticism, or flames (for they are tasty), please leave a review!


	3. Stand

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything. …Or do I…? Nope, I don't. Not Summon Night: Swordcraft Story, and not the lyrics to the song "Stand Beside Me" by Brother that I have at the beginning of this chapter.

**NybCR:** Oooh, lookie! A third chapter! And here you get more background on Pratty and Kenon's friendship. Also, some random dude called Sigurd. Slightly shorter than the other two chapters, but they were pretty long anyhow.

Oh! One more thing. I have a picture of the flier spoken of in this chapter. You can view it on the webpage I have a link to in my biography.

And, just in case anyone's confused... **the title of this story has changed!** It used to be called "Trip", but I changed it on the grounds that that title didn't have anything to do with the story. At all. Seriously. But enough of that; on with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Three**  
Stand

"_Stand still while you can."_

_- _

"Hey, Kenon!"

Pratty and the head-banded wonder turned around to find a boy about their age running up to them. His hair was dark brown and curly, his eyes bright with excitement.

"Oh, Sigurd," Headband Boy said. "What's up?"

Sigurd stopped in front of them. "They just posted the line-up for the first round of tournament matches tomorrow. Come on!"

Zantek beeped excitedly. _All right! Now we can get a head-start on our training!_

Rasho rolled his eyes. "Could you be a little _less_ lame, for a change?"

"Already?" Pratty said, surprised. They had just finished dinner (some rice and fish at this place called _Bienvenue_ near the Northern Harbor) and were about to head to their respective guilds when Sigurd had run up to them. "I thought for sure they wouldn't have those up until tomorrow."

"Well, apparently, some of the matches are starting pretty early," Sigurd said, "so the Craftlords figured we oughta be given a fair amount of notice. Anyway, come on! Let's go already!"

After a little more insisting, the four of them followed Sigurd to the Central Tower, where there was a dispersing crowd of Craftknight apprentices looking at a scroll pinned to the wall in the front room. Pratty and Headband Boy hurried to look at it. Rasho and Zantek followed at a slower pace. As far as Rasho was concerned, it didn't really matter who Pratty was matched up against: in any case, it would be some little Craftknight apprentice twerp, and she should have no problem with _him_ as her partner.

"Looks like I'm matched against an out-of-towner," Headband Boy commented as he examined the scroll. "Doesn't say where he's from, though. Just that he's not in either of the guilds."

"Hey, Kenon, check out who _I'm_ matched against," Pratty said, nudging her friend with an elbow.

He scanned the paper until he found her name. Then he smirked. "Oh, man, that is too perfect."

Interest piqued, Rasho leaned over Pratty's shoulder to get a better look at the scroll. After a bit of searching, he found Pratty's name under the four o'clock time mark and the name Chaves—the one she was to compete against.

"Chaves... that's the guy who bullied you, right?" Rasho said.

Pratty turned to him and grinned. "That's right. So, we've got no choice but to beat him tomorrow."

Rasho poked her forehead. "We'd do that no matter who your next opponent was, kid."

Pratty waved his hand away. "You know what I mean, Rasho."

"Don't worry," Rasho said. "Of course, you're going to need some training if you want to win, but you should do fine since _I'm_ your partner for the time being."

"Hm, 'the time being'…."

Headband Boy chuckled. "Sounds like your Guardian Beast doesn't like you, Pratty."

"Gee, Kenon, your confidence overwhelms me…."

"Oh, don't feel bad, Pratty," he went on, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, a half-smirk on his face. "I'm still your friend."

Pratty rolled her eyes. "Why are you so insufferable?"

"Heh, I dunno. But it sure is fun."

"You know, you're _supposed_ to be this big, scary guy who could make someone burst into flames with a single glance. Now, do you really want to lose your scary-guy reputation and suddenly be known as Mr. Goofypants?"

"Well…" Kenon paused, as though seriously considering Pratty's comment. Then he gave her a mysterious half-smile. "It is true that if I didn't have that 'scary-guy' reputation, I never would've become friends with you."

Pratty smiled, and then looked at Kenon side-long from beneath her eyelashes. "That's true enough."

- - -

Soon afterwards, the four of them went separate ways. Glancing at the horizon, Rasho saw that the sun had almost set, but he was still wide awake. He looked at Pratty—she seemed to still have some energy, too.

"You wanna go for a walk before heading back to the workshop?" Rasho asked.

"Sure," Pratty said. "Where to?"

"You tell me. I just got here, remember?"

"All right." She thought for a moment. "How about the harbor?"

Rasho grinned. "That sounds like a fine idea. Lead the way!"

"Great!"

Before long, the two had arrived at a port that stretched a fair ways into the ocean. There were many boats docked there—some small, some big. Pratty led Rasho to the end of a walkway running the length of one of the larger ships. Rasho breathed in the night air and eyed the ship closest to them. A glance out of the corner of his eye at his companion's wide-eyed stare told him that Pratty was thinking the same thing that he was.

"That's a beautiful ship there," Rasho said. "Come on! Let's check it out."

"No, Rasho!" Pratty protested. "That'd be rude! You don't just board somebody else's ship without asking."

"Perhaps we can ask after we get _off_ the ship," Rasho replied, grinning.

"Rasho—"

"Oh, don't be meek. You want to board that ship as much as I do. Why fight the urge? Come with me!"

"Ah—"

Before she could say another word, he took her hand and pulled her with him towards the ship.

The ship was even finer on board than it had looked on the harbor. The polished wooden floorboards gleamed softly in the moonlight, and the smooth handrails rimming the ship gripped comfortably beneath his hands. A cool breeze blew over them, carrying the invigorating smell of the ocean to them. Despite her initial protests, Pratty hurried to the rail to look at the ocean beneath the clear night sky, eyes bright.

"Ah… it's a fine night tonight," Rasho said as he looked over the bow of the ship. "I'd almost forgotten what the ocean smells like at night." There was a pause. Rasho looked at Pratty side-long. "Hey, kid."

"Hmm?"

"What's up with you and Headband Boy?"

"Call him by his name, Rasho."

Rasho frowned at that. "I'm not going to be lectured to by a child."

Pratty didn't respond; she simply continued gazing at the gently lapping waves. Rasho rolled his eyes. Dammit, she was as stubborn as Shintetsu. "Fine," he said at last. "What's up with you and _Kenon_?"

She tried to hide her smile, but was betrayed by her raised cheeks, illuminated by moonlight. "He's my friend," she said simply.

"Obviously," he said, his voice almost a growl. "I meant besides that."

"Well, what do you want to know?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Pfeh, I don't know," he said, setting his hands on the back of his head. "When did you meet?"

"Hmm… well, we met when I was eight years old… so, about six years ago. It was before either of us started as Craftknight apprentices, and we were still little kids running around without anything to do."

"You mean you aren't now?"

Pratty smiled sheepishly. "Well… I suppose we _still_ are, but back then, the only other thing we had to do was our schoolwork."

"Of course."

"Anyway, me and Dad were on a trip to Vance, and he'd left me by the beach while he was in the weapons shop. I was bored, so I started throwing rocks in the ocean. That's when Kenon came over. He was visiting Vance, too."

"What a coincidence."

"Not really." She looked down at her clasped hands on the handrail of the ship. "There were a lot of weapon merchants in Vance at that time, so a lot of Craftknights in Wystern were going over there to sell their weapons. My Dad and Kenon's dad were just two of them."

"So what happened next?"

"Well, it was the first time I'd seen Kenon up close, but I'd heard about him from the other kids—that he was scary, he beat people up all the time, he could make you explode just by looking at you funny… that kind of thing."

Rasho snorted. "And you believed this?"

"I was a kid. Of course I believed it. Anyway, when he came over to where I was on the beach, I asked him if he could really make people explode just by looking at them."

"Are you _serious_?"

"I was eight! _Anyway_, he said no, and called me dumb 'cause nobody can do that sort of thing."

"Sounds like he had more sense than you did."

Pratty ignored him. "So then I asked him if he was scary. He called me dumb again, 'cause I should be able to tell just by looking at him. Then I asked him if he beat people up a lot, and he said, 'What if I do?' "

"Why do I get the feeling you said something dumb in return?"

Pratty chuckled. "_I _said that if he did, then did he do it because they asked him a lot of dumb questions about being scary?"

Rasho laughed aloud. "Then what did he say?"

"He laughed, and then he picked up a round, flat rock and skipped it across the ocean. I asked him to teach me how to do that, too, and he did. We've been friends ever since."

There was another pause.

"Rasho?"

The demon looked down at his young companion. "Yeah?"

"You were my father's Guardian Beast before, right?" Pratty said.

Rasho didn't answer for a moment. "Yeah, that's right," Rasho answered. "What of it?"

"What was he like?"

"Heh." Rasho looked back over the ocean. "Shouldn't you know? It wasn't that long ago that he died. Just three years. You were—what—eleven?"

Pratty frowned. "Well, of course I knew him as a father. But… everyone always talks about my dad and what a great Craftlord he was and how he was a hero… and it makes me think that I didn't really know him at all."

Rasho watched her out of the corner of his eye. "Do you mean what was he like as a person, or as a Craftknight?"

Pratty looked up, surprised, but slowly let a smile tease her lips. "Both, I guess."

Rasho smiled gently, turning back towards the ocean. "Don't you worry. When the time's right, I'll tell you all about what Shintetsu and I did, and how good we were at it."

"Are you really going to tell me the whole story?"

"I won't tell you everything until you've become a woman," he replied, looking at her from the corner of his eye, "but I'll tell you bits and pieces of the story as your skills improve."

She gazed at him silently for a moment, and then smiled. "Thank you, Rasho."

That threw him. "Huh? What for?"

"If you're going to tell me the story, then that means you're going to be my partner," she explained. "So, I thank you!"

Rasho shook his head in amazement. "Our conversations leave me both confused and intrigued." He chuckled under his breath. "Both you and your father are rather… easygoing people."

She looked a little confused at his comment, but she shrugged it off, as though deciding it wasn't anything worth worrying over. She was very different from Shintetsu, in her sharp mind and her determined protectiveness (as demonstrated to Rasho when he had insulted Headband Boy earlier that day), but at the same time… she was so clearly his daughter.

Rasho returned his gaze to the ocean, a grin spreading across his face. Yeah… being Pratty's partner was definitely going to be interesting.

* * *

**NybCR:** As always, thanks for reading. Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! 


	4. Chapter Four and Important Author

**NybCR:** Holy moly it's been a while. Well, I know I've told a few of my reviewers this already, but the main reason why I haven't been posting here anymore is because I've decided to do a complete redux of this story. And as of today (3/7/11), I'm posting up this redux under the title "Spirit of Fire"... so if you want to check it out, please go to my profile! It's new and improved and everything! Also, it is beta'ed by Ruby-Blade-Princess, who has already done excellent work cleaning up the grammar.

Of course, I'm not sure how long it will take me to catch up to this version, so in the meantime, I'll keep this story up.

Below is what I had already written for the fourth chapter before I decided I wanted to rewrite everything. I only gave it a cursory edit, so I'm not sure if it's clean, or even if the writing is shamefully bad. It's also incomplete, so even though it's longish, it ends rather abruptly.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

"Hey, wake up, Rasho!" Pratty's voice chirped. "We've gotta head downstairs for Master Bron's lesson. And breakfast. Anyway, come on!"

Rasho groaned and opened his eyes. He reluctantly sat up in his cot and looked across the room, where Pratty was straightening out the bedding on her cot. For a second he wondered why her cot was on the opposite side of the room since it was right next to his yesterday, but then he remembered that, while they were preparing for bed last night, she had picked up one of the cots and moved it to the other side of the room. When he asked, jokingly, if she thought he had cooties, she stated flatly that he was a guy and she was a young lady in the flower of her youth, still blossoming into a young woman.

Next time, he promised himself, he just wouldn't ask.

He stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and reached for his armor. He looked around the room and then headed for the screen, where he could change his clothes. Actually, he'd just slept in his pants, so he'd only be putting _on_ clothes… but it was the principle of the thing. There was a teenage girl _right there_, after all, and even if he was rude sometimes, he _did_ have a sense of propriety.

"I'll wait for you downstairs!" Pratty said as she hurried out of the room. From behind the screen, Rasho rolled his eyes. She was _such_ a fledgling…

Dressed and feeling a little more awake, he left the workshop and floated down the stairs. When he got there, he found Pratty chatting happily with a girl (presumably another Craftknight apprentice) with bright purple hair tied up into a pair of buns on top of her head. Floating beside the girl was what looked like a fuzzy, pale green ball with big, floppy ears and four paws attached to it—the girl's Guardian Beast, no doubt.

"Rasho, this is Trish," Pratty said, upon noticing his arrival. "She's competing in the tournament, too. And that's Chihuahua—" indicating the fuzzy ball "—her Guardian Beast."

Rasho gave Pratty a stern look, ignoring the girl and her fuzzy Beast. "Are you going to make friends with _everyone_ in the tournament?"

"Huh?"

"You do realize that that'll only make it harder for you to fight them in the tournament when the time comes, don't you?"

"Oh, come on, Rasho, you're exaggerating…."

"Oh, hey, is this your Guardian Beast?" the purple-haired girl interrupted.

Pratty looked at her. "What? Oh, yeah, this is Rasho."

Fish squeaked excitedly. "Oh, that's so cool! Your Guardian Beast is a _demon_! That is _sooooo_ awesome!"

Pratty waved a hand at her, an It's-Not-That-Big-a-Deal look on her face. "Okay, calm down. How about we get some breakfast? All right, Rasho?"

Rasho sighed and let Pratty drag him through the main forging room to the kitchen, where some Craftknight apprentices were cooking and setting dishes of fried fish and seaweed on the center table.

As Pratty grabbed a plate (and handed Rasho one for himself) and started putting some food on it, she explained to him that all of the members of the Silver Guild took turns cooking meals. However, all of the tournament entrants (including herself) were excused from kitchen duty—as well as other menial chores—for the duration of the tournament. Of course, once you were out of the tournament or the tournament itself ended, it was back to work.

"That being said, I do _not_ envy the apprentices who aren't competing," Pratty's friend put in. "Their workload is tripled now that all sixteen of us in the tournament are going to be staying in the Silver Guild full-time now—which means there's more to clean and more to cook round the clock."

After their plates were filled, Pratty led them to the front room, explaining to Rasho that they didn't have a proper dining room, so everyone just ate wherever—as long as they cleaned up after themselves, of course.

"Man, Bron's cheap," Rasho said as they settled down on the floor with a couple other Craftknight apprentices (who acknowledged them with a simple "hi").

"It's not that," Pratty said. "It's just that the Silver Guild doesn't have enough money to spare on something like a cafeteria."

"Which is why it's cheap," Rasho stated.

"Ugh... you're impossible," she grumbled, taking a bite out of her meal.

Before long, it was eleven o'clock, and fourteen of the sixteen (since two were currently engaged in a match) Silver Guild tournament entrants and their Guardian Beasts gathered around Bron in the main forging room. Rasho examined the competition: the purple-haired Fish, a pair of twins (who didn't appear to have Guardian Beasts with them), some smart-looking twit with glasses and bright blue hair, a bored-looking teenage boy with dark hair and sharp eyes (Rasho made a mental note to watch out for that kid), some girl with red hair tied into a ponytail… and no one else worth noticing. Probably the others wouldn't even make it past the first round. For pity's sake, there was some little _kid_ here trussed up in yellow, even younger than Pratty. Just what was Bron thinking?

"Good, yer all here—'cept Karen and Ron, who're in a match right now," Bron said as he finished scanning the room. "Now listen up, apprentices! Yer all in the tournament representin' the Silver Guild. Some of ya are fairly new to bein' a Craftknight apprentice. Some of ya aren't. In any case, I expect ya to treat one another with the same amount o' respect ya'd give any of yer peers. Now that don't mean ya've gotta make buddies all around—don't forget yer still competin' against one another! But there'll be no sabotage, an' no fowl play. Ya hear?"

"Yes, sir," the apprentices mumbled.

"I SAID, ya HEAR?"

"YES, SIR!"

"Good then! Now, for those of you who're older an' have already begun forgin' weapons on yer own, yer dismissed. The rest of ya, I'm gonna teach ya how to forge yer first weapon! A'right? Now you older ones, git!"

Six of the Craftknights rose and departed—among them, Rasho noticed, were the twins, the twit, and the sharp-eyed boy. Rasho's mouth thinned. Well, at least his instincts were right about the boy… but whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen.

Most of Bron "teaching them to forge their first weapon" consisted of him telling his apprentices how to follow directions. He stated that he wouldn't be able to directly teach each and every single one of them how to forge a new weapon whenever their skills progressed, so he would simply give them a sheet of paper with instructions. These instructions would detail how much materials to use, what shape they should pound them into, how many times they should pound it with their hammer… stuff like that.

Rasho didn't pay much attention; he'd been through all this already with Shintetsu. He considered heckling Bron to stave off boredom, but eventually dismissed the idea on the grounds that he was feeling too lazy to bother with it.

Before dismissing everyone, Bron gave out the order to buy their materials as soon as possible, as the stores would likely run out soon. At that, Pratty raised her hand, presumably to ask a question.

"What is it, Pratty?" Bron asked.

"Aren't we supposed to retrieve our materials for the tournament from the Labyrinth?" she asked.

"A fair question," Bron said. "But ya can't go into the Labyrinth without a weapon, now, can ya? Not with Strays runnin' around all over the place. That's why yer first weapon will be made from materials ya bought yerself. Now, if that's all, get to work and do yer best in the tournament."

Rasho rolled his eyes as he and Pratty left the room. Like he cared about some lame-ass tournament.

"Come on, Rasho," Pratty said, tugging on his hand. "Let's go to Aberford's Weapon Shop. I heard from Trish that they're having a sale on weapon materials today."

"Eh? Who's Trish? _Another_ friend of yours?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten already! I just introduced you. Remember? She had purple hair and a cute, fuzzy Guardian Beast—"

"Her? You're not still friends, are you?"

"Well, yeah. What, did you think that would change in the half hour it took to listen to Master Bron's lesson?"

He poked a finger at her forehead. "It ought to have changed the second Bron told you to hunt for weapon materials."

She frowned and batted his hand away. "What do you mean?"

He scowled and leaned forward to look her in the eye. "Think for a second, kid. There are sixty-four competitors in the tournament, right?"

"Right..."

"And a finite amount of materials stocked up in the shops."

"I suppose so."

"Not to mention all of the Craftknights in this city who need to make weapons on a daily basis."

"What does that have to do with—" A light dawned in her eyes. "Oh."

He straightened. "Exactly. You won't just be competing in the arena. You'll be competing just to have enough materials to make a basic sword." He crossed his arms. "It'll get easier once the first round is over and the number of entrants is down to thirty-two, but for this first part, resources'll be pretty tight."

She actually looked concerned—for about two seconds. "The shops will have stocked up extra, though, since they knew the tournament was coming around. I'm sure it'll be fine."

He shrugged, not really caring. "Maybe."

"Anyway, we'd better get going. Don't want to miss the sale, right?" Of course, even though she sounded cheerful enough, she seemed to be walking quite a bit faster than normal towards the shops. He just chuckled. It probably _would_ be fine, but he had fun scaring her. Just a little bit.

As she led him down the steel-and-stone walkways, Rasho cupped his hands behind his head and asked, nonchalantly, "So... who was that one apprentice?"

"Huh?" Pratty looked up at him. "You mean, at the Silver Guild? Which one?"

"The guy with black hair."

"Rasho, you're going to have to be a little more specific than that."

"He was one of the older apprentices." Rasho crossed his arms, frowning a little. "He got up and left with the others before Bron's so-called 'lesson' started."

Pratty blinked. "Wait… did he have pretty eyes?"

"Wha?" Rasho stopped and looked down at her. The guy's eyes were certainly _unusual_, which is why he had taken note of them… despite his apparent boredom, his eyes had been sharp and alert, alive with an intelligent spark. Had they been "pretty," though? Hell if he knew. "I suppose so," he said. They had seemed to stand out in his face, perhaps because they were a rare color, but he had not noticed if they had been. All he had seen at the time was that they were the eyes of a dangerous opponent.

"Oh." She blushed and looked away. "It was probably Kyle, then."

Rasho blinked. "What's with the blush? Don't tell me you've got a crush on him."

Pratty huffed and crossed her arms. "Of course! All of the girls in the Silver Guild do. Even some in the Gold Guild have a crush on him."

He groaned. "Just great… and what happens if you're matched up against him in the tournament?"

She rubbed the back of her neck. "I dunno… fight anyway, I guess."

"Ugh. You're hopeless…."

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway! If I _am_ ever matched up against him, what I should worry about first is how much better a fighter he is than me."

"… You're not really inspiring confidence, here…."

Pratty rolled her eyes, but remained silent until they came to a short, dark red building with the words "Aberford's Weapons" inscribed on a sign hanging above a sturdy wooden door.

"Here we are," she said.

Rasho groaned.

She blinked up at him. "What's wrong?"

"Shopping…. No _way_ am I doing that. It would ruin my image!"

"But… it _is_ a weapon's shop." She shrugged. "But if you really feel that way, you can just stay out here and wait for me."

"Oh no, I don't think so." He pushed her way past her and opened the door, giving her a glare. "I said it before, I'll say it again: I don't stand around waiting for silly teenage girls."

"Not silly," she replied, ducking past him into the shop so he wouldn't see the grin on her face. Guys, be they demon or human, were so easy.

Rasho followed her inside and glanced around. Aberford's Weapons was… well, it was clean. And boring. And completely empty.

"Um… hello?" Pratty called.

A head peeked over the clerk's desk. Pratty waved. The man—tall and skinny—straightened.

"Hello yourself," he said. He pulled a rag out of his trouser pocket and mopped at the counter before him. "You one of the tournament entrants? Looking for weapon's materials?"

She smiled and stepped up to the counter. "That's right. You're Mr. Aberford?"

"Just Ab's fine." He rubbed a hand over his bald spot.

"Umm—why is it so empty in here?"

"I'm sold out."

"Huh?" She looked around, suddenly noticing how bare the walls were. "But… wouldn't you have stocked up for the tournament?"

The man shrugged. "I did, matter of fact. But before I could even put it on the shelves, Master Libody came by and offered to pay all of my stock double its worth."

"Libody? You mean the Master of the Gold Guild? Can he seriously _do_ that?"

"Sorry." He shrugged. "Like I said, paid me double. Man's gotta make a living."

Pratty sighed. "It's all right, I'll just check out another store." She turned and hurried out the door, not even glancing at her partner as she went.


End file.
